Whispers in the Dark
by Nocte Amissus
Summary: Loss. Something everyone feels. The barest, rawest form of emotion. When you lose everything, what more is there to live for? For some, there's nothing. For others, there's everything. To fight to prove that they can't push you down and keep you there. But when you loose everything - haven't they already won? Full Summary on Profile.
1. Goodbye

_**Hey everyone! I'm Nocte Amissus, but you lot can just call me Noc or Nocte. This is my second TW Fic, and I've got a bit of a question for you - what pairings do you lot think I should do? There will be a poll on my profile for you to answer on! Thanks! - Noc**_

_**DISCLAIMER: **__I do not own TW in any way what-so-ever, if I did then Allison and Scott would totally be dead. Please enjoy this purely fictional story and review! Also, there well be some major Scott & Allison bashing! You have been warned!_

_**Chapter One:**_

_"Don't go away. I don't want to be alone. I can't stand being alone." - Arnold Rothstein_

There comes a time when everyone is alone. Lost, forgotten, abandoned - doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that they are alone. No friends, no family, no nothing. No one cares, no one bothers, no one even notices. Why? Well why should they? What reason do they have to care? The answer is pure and simple - none. Friends betray you, family dies, and who else really matters?

A heavy hand clamped firmly over my shoulder, claw-like fingers gripping tight enough to form bruises yet neither I nor the owner of said hand cared. "I'm sorry, Stiles.." Derek's hoarse voice was barely above a whisper. Perhaps he expected me not to here. Perhaps he hadn't realized he'd said it. Either way, it was said and it was heard. The hand fell from its place and then nothing. Everything was silent. The shrill screams of the sirens faded into nothing, the sobs of Scott and Allison trickled away until they were but a whisper in the wind - though the wind seemed to dissipate itself. All that was there was the body carefully covered by a thick leather coat. The coat, however, just barely managed to cover the corpse's torso, leaving the stomach and legs for all to see - but there wasn't really much to see. Flesh was shredded completely, blood seeping out and pooling around the body - postmortem. Dark slacks were heavy with soaked blood, though it seemed like there weren't really any pants but rather strips of fabric stretched across the only unharmed flesh. The light standard issued police shirt was shredded down the center, leaving it to spread open revealing the gashes left by bites and claws.

A werewolf had done this. A wild and untamed werewolf - an Omega. I felt my hands curl into fists and his shoulders trembled as the sobs threatened to control my movements once more. I could feel myself climbing to my feet, pushing past one of the deputies and stalking towards my best-friend and his girlfriend. I felt a fist raise and I felt the burning ache that followed it as the fist flew through the air, connecting with the underside of Scott McCall's jaw. I didn't care that Derek had shouted my name or the way Allison gasped in surprise. I didn't care that Scott's tear-filled eyes widened in surprise or the way he staggered back. I just rose the fist and swung again. After another two hits, Scott shoved me back. His amber orbs narrowed at me. "What the hell man?" He demanded. I just sneered and swung one last time. The fist connected with the right side of his forehead. A set of muscled arms wrapped firmly around my waist from behind, pulling me carefully away from the werewolf. Derek appeared in front of me, checking over his snarling Beta before crimson laced emerald orbs fell on me, confused as to what just happened.

Farther and farther my thrashing body was carried away. My captor carried me past the deputies and past a fumbling Melissa McCall. He carried me past the cruisers and the wreck of a jeep I owned. He carried me past Scott's dirtbike and Derek's Camaro. He carried me past Allison's little car and Jackson's Porsche. He carried me until we reached a familiar black SUV and even then he didn't let me go. Chris Argent stood tall and firm, arms secured around me. His hold reminded me of my father's - firm and warm, not uncomfortable in the slightest, despite the fact that the arms were tight. "Stiles I -"

"Don't," I snapped, voice raw and tight from the tears, "don't you dare say it. Don't you dare! H... It's not real! This is just a nightmare! He's not dead!" I was being a petulant child - no one had to tell me that. I fell limp in those arms, knowing full well that they could hold my weight. I felt the sigh more than I could hear it - the slight puff of warm air that hit the top of my head and the way his chest heaved just so slightly. The way his arms tightened just a bit before returning to the previous holding form. The door to the vehicle was pulled open and I was lifted carefully onto the grey leather seats. The car was cleaner than I'd have expected - though in those few moments that I really looked, I didn't truthfully care. The course grey belt slid across my chest and around my waist before snapping closed and the door clicked shut. A few moments later the Driver's side door opened and Chris pulled himself into the SUV. "He's not dead," I whispered. I could feel Chris' eyes on me, and I didn't need to look to see that there was no pity in his eyes.

"Stiles, I need you to listen to me." The gravely voice was unexpectedly soft, warm despite the tragedy that we'd all just seen. Tragedy, ha. What happened was tragic indeed, but to Chris Argent and the others, it wasn't something uncommon. The death of a person was a common occurrence - the only reason anyone was truly upset by the death was because of who it was. I didn't want to listen to the Hunter. I didn't want to hear his reasonings or the speech that would say I'd be okay. "I know it hurts, Stiles. But you need to be strong, just a bit longer. I need you to tell me what happened." What happened? Why did it matter what happened? It was over.. It was done... It didn't matter at all. "Stiles, I know it hurts... but I need you to try. I need to know what happened." He tried again, I just gazed out the window in the direction of Scott and the others.

"It's all his fault," I responded, voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

_The crescent moon hung high in the sky, dangling carelessly in the colorless canvas of a sky. Glittering stars shimmered beautifully, and yet the night was ugly. It hadn't started out that way - oh no, at first it was a beautiful night. The kind of night where Stiles wished he'd never been drug into the world of Supernatural Things - it was the kind of night Stiles wished he was able to spend star gazing with his father, just like they use to do. But no, that wasn't what would happen - oh no, Stiles wasn't going to have such an easy night ever again he felt. _


	2. Vargulf

_**Chapter Two:**_

_"You want to believe that there's one relationship in life that's beyond betrayal. A relationship that's beyond that kind of hurt. And there isn't." - Caleb Carr_

_Amber orbs gazed back at me restlessly, begging - yearning for an answer. An answer that I didn't have. A slop of golden curls landed on my lap, startling me out of the trance-like state. An annoyed grunt came from the seat adjacent - the seat that Scott glared from, irritated at the lack of attention he was suddenly getting as my fingers carded themselves through Isaac's hair. The younger hummed and little grumbled growls rumbled from his chest, and for the most part he didn't seem to care that he'd just interrupted Scott from convincing me to lie to my dad - again, might I add - and say that I was going to be with him at his house. The plan was simply so Scott had an alibi so he could spend time macking on his girl. "It's not happening, Scott. You know that tonight is my dad's only night off - and it's movie night. I'm not doing it, I'm sorry bro." I sighed in response to the wolf's sharp glare._

_"Then have your movie night next week!" He snapped back, amber eyes blazing as wolfed-out hands curled into fists. Isaac's own growls grew louder, but those weren't directed at me. No, those growls would never be directed at me._

_"Make your date night some other night, Scott. I won't do it." It hurt to have to tell him now - but lately all Scott ever wanted was to be around her. Well, I wanted to be around my dad. "Hey, Isaac, can you go get that list Erica made?" I hummed, patting the boy's head. He bounced out of my lap and sauntered into the kitchen to look for the shopping list._

_"Do it Stiles, or else," now that made me pause. I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop. "Or else... or else I'll tell him everything. I'll tell your dad about us. We'll see how many movie nights you have then!" The selfish snarl coming from the Beta's throat made me want to cringe and curl into a ball. "I'll be at your house at five." And then he was gone. He stalked out the door and was gone._

* * *

"Scott threatened you?" Chris' voice broke me out of my memory. I merely nodded, leaning back against the seat and clenching my eyes shut. "I don't understand," he confessed, "Scott was devastated when I got there. If he was acting like this - why did he care?"

"He didn't care..." I whispered, rolling my head so it would lean against the cool glass of the window. "Allison got bit," I confessed after a moment's pause. "Scott bit her - that's why he was so upset." My thoughts suddenly turned back to Isaac. The boy would be terrified right now, probably hiding away in my room at the Hale 'manor.' I should be with him - but Derek would be heading back by now. He probably had Allison and Scott with him, probably Jackson too. Peter might have been in the mix as well, though it was hard to tell with the elder.

"You're s-"

"I'm sure," I cut him off. "I saw him bite her. I saw the way she looked relieved too. She's glad to be a werewolf. Maybe the bite won't take though. I hope it doesn't," I confessed again. In the beginning I liked her - Allison was always nice enough, always gave me a warm smile. But then she went through her psycho Kate phase where she tried to kill all of my wolves. I knew my words probably hurt the father. I knew I probably hit a sore spot talking about the Bite considering he'd killed his wife over having her turn.

"I see... Do you know who the Omega was?" I could tell he was trying to change the topic, and I couldn't blame him. "Do you know what he wanted, if he wanted anything?" He added as an afterthought. I shook my head.

"You know Scott is going Rogue? I read about it in one of the books Peter loaned me. "Or well, it's actually called a Vargulf, but that's just Norse for Rogue Wolf. Do you know what a Rogue wolf is? It's a wolf who kills much, but eats little. At the time this caused issues with farmers and herders, and obviously hunters too. So, they'd hunt the wolves down, though it's hard to tell which wolf is mad, so there were hundreds of innocent wolves slaughtered, and sometimes the Vargulf never was. Anyways, when they killed the wolf, they'd hang the pelt their children's rooms - suppose to give the kids some gifts or something like that." I knew I was rambling. I knew Chris probably knew all of this. But it was enough, and he seemed to understand this.

"Why do you think Scott is a Ro... a Vargulf?" The words sounded strange on his lips and I frowned, turning my head to look at him. Chris seemed to be confused at the word and I couldn't help but chuckle. Hunters now-a-days probably didn't need to know the Norse Word for a Rogue, but oh well. "That's a mighty accusation, Stiles. It can get him killed, or worse." That's the funny thing, isn't it? The fact that there's always something worse than death.

"He's losing control more often. Not a crime, I know. Scott loosing control is dangerous. If Scott loses control, he likes to run. Lately he's been coming back with small game. Also not a crime - but no one is allowed to touch the animals. It's his he always says when I've tried to cook the meat, just so the animals don't go to waste. Derek knows what's happening, and he's trying to help - but I don't think even he can help him at this point. I don't want Scott dead. I'd never wish death on anyone - but he needs help. Scott will kill someone else if he doesn't get the help he needs." I was condemning my 'best-friend' and I knew it, but the werewolf did need help. Help that would fix him and change him - maybe it would calm him back down and offer him other outlets. Maybe he could get better and things could go back to the way they use to be, though I doubt that very strongly, but it was a nice thought.

"I'll see what I can do," Chris whispered back, a sigh immediately following his words. The sudden purr of the engine shook the vehicle briefly before we were on the move. Trees raced by for a good ten minutes before civilization became apparent. "You can stay with me for the night. Tomorrow we'll talk more," were the last words I heard before everything faded to black. Unconsciousness took hold of me, clutching at my mind and dragging me deeper and deeper into the darkness until I could see nothing, I could hear nothing, I could feel nothing...


	3. Condemned

_**Chapter Three:**_

_"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." - Norman Cousins_

Searing white lights yanked me from unconsciousness and back into the realm of 'the living.' Glimmering rays of golden sun trickled in through the cracks of the crimson curtains, splashing across my face in an assault of cheerful delight - delight that I felt none of. I tugged the thick, silky fabric of the slate sheets back over my head and burrowed under the well-fluffed pillow, clutching the material over my face and ears. It was sickening how jolly the chirping birds and their gay little songs seemed. It was sickening to the point where I wanted to vomit.

The gentle rap across the oaken door leading into the room wasn't even enough to pull me out from my sanctuary in the bed. The mattress dipped with a new found weight and a tender hand landed on my hip, rubbing it gently to wake me up. "Ger-way," I grumbled to the shaking, but the owner of the hand simply chuckled. It was a chuckle I knew well - deep and throaty, a grumble of a laugh that reminded me very much of an amused growl. Peter.

"Come on, Genim," the man hummed, squeezing my side softly and tugged the bedding slowly away from my limp form. "We need to talk, and Chris isn't very well known for his patience." I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to leave the room, which I hadn't done for nearly three days. No food, no water, no nothing. I wanted to stay in the room and die - the wolf apparently had other ideas for I was suddenly being plucked from the bed and into the arms of the wolf. "I know it hurts, Genim - but you aren't done yet. We need you, we'd be lost without our beloved Human. Now you can either take a shower, or I'll force you to take a shower." The man's words ended firmly, and I knew he'd do exactly what he said he'd do. I didn't want to move though, but I found myself pushing away from the man and slumping to the bathroom anyways.

The water came on with a soft sputter and his before cascading down on my body in a flood of chilling ice. The liquid gradually began to warm up until it was scalding, burning my skin as it enveloped every inch of my flesh. I scrubbed frantically at my hair with the shampoo Chris had given me on the first night. Smelling it now, I could tell it was his. The nearly overwhelming scent of a multitude of spices and tangy citrus engulfed me, relaxing me ever so slightly. The shower lasted for another few minutes which consisted of me scrubbing my reddening flesh and rinsing the suds from my body before clambering out. I wrapped myself in the plush silver towel hanging from the onyx rack and slid to the floor, tugging my knees to my chest as my breathing slowly picked back up.

Things - everything - came back into perspective. My dad was gone, his death was Scott's fault, his death was my fault. I killed my father. A strangled sob pushed past my lips and muffled into my knees, but I knew Peter could hear. I knew he could hear the quickening of my heartbeat and the sobs that racked my body. I knew he would be bursting through the door at any given moment, and I did nothing to change it. Sure enough, just a few moments later, the door flung open, lock be damned, and Peter and Chris both stood there. The two looked as if they were ready to take down the Alpha Pack together, but at the sight of my crumpled form they both deflated and I was suddenly being tugged off of the floor and into a duel embrace. I don't know who I was hugging, the scent of Chris' shampoo still attacking my senses, but I clung to one of them and sobbed into the well defined chest. My shoulders trembled and rattled and my fingers clutched at the fabric of a shirt, relishing in the safety of their arms.

"Get dressed, Genim," Peter's husky voice was muttered into the back of my neck before one pair of arms retracted hesitantly. A hand ghosted through my hair and a kiss was pressed delicately to the top of my head before the second pair pulled back too, leaving me to drop my arms from the body - from Chris' body. The two men left with a promise of waiting downstairs, leaving me to dress. I stared momentarily at the clothes folded neatly on the bed, head tilted just so. The clothes weren't mine, and as far as I knew, Allison didn't have a brother, but the clothes looked like they'd fit me. I shimmied carefully into a pair of well worn, ripped jeans with holes scattered about, before pausing in surprise. They actually fit, and I didn't need a belt. I fingered the dangling cord around my throat, gliding my fingers over the damp chain and across the pointed tooth of a shark. I clutched it tightly in my fist, eyes clenched shut as memories of my late mother flashed through my mind. She always wore the necklace, no matter where she went - even if it was to a Gala. The tooth itself came from a Great White that had snagged her from her surfboard when she was younger. I smiled softly. My mother had loved the ocean, even as a child. She always told me stories of times when she would go surfing, but my favorite had been the tale of how she got the tooth. She'd fought off the shark after it had pulled her below the surface, kicking and punching until it relented and disappeared into the blood ridden water. The tooth was found broken off in her leg, and she'd later had it clasped to the chain - that was how she'd met my father. He had been her knight in shining armor, rushing her to the hospital after the attack. She said it was love at first site, he said he was too worried about her not dying to even care about love until she was patched up and lying in the Hospital Bed.

The smile grew and I released the tooth in favor of tugging the black v-neck that was laid out, over my head. The shirt clung to the few muscles I had, causing me to squirm. Skin tight clothes had never been something I liked, always too self-conscious to wear them. Now, however, I didn't seem to have much of a choice. I sat on the bed, dragging a hand across my face and scrubbed harshly at my eyes before leaning over and grabbing my socks. I stroked the Batman socks delicately, happy that they were still in useable condition and tugged them on, followed by the black high-top Converse that were stacked by the Nightstand. I finally clipped the thick, black leather, braided bracelet around my wrist and stood. 'Here goes nothing,' I muttered to myself as I began my trek out of the room and down the hall and stairs. The muffled words of Chris and Peter's conversation reached my ears easily as I maneuvered my way into the living room where the two sat adjacent to one another, making easy conversation with cups of warm coffee clasped in the calloused hands, course from years of hard labor. "Whose clothes are these," I inquired softly, knowing full well that Peter knew I was in the room now, and knowing Chris would be able to hear me too.

Cerulean orbs flickered across to stare at me, an amused grin plastering itself on Peter's lips. Chris turned his head to look at what had made the Wolf grin so suddenly. "Derek's," Peter chuckled, "from when he was in school." He leaned back into the cushions of the couch. "I'm honestly surprised they fit you," he mused, "I figured they'd be too big. Werewolf Puberty and all that." I nodded slowly, fingering the fabric before moving to sit on the couch with Peter. The wolf rumbled in approval as our shoulders touched, accepting the touch Chris watched on in curiosity. I reached over, snagging the cup from Peter's hands just as he was about to take another sip, placing it against my own and taking a large gulp. Ignoring the grunt of annoyance, I turned my focus to Chris. He stared back and I nearly broke down again. "We need to talk, Genim." Peter hummed. I nodded in return.

"You said Scott is going Ro... is turning into a Vargulf." It wasn't a question. I glanced at Chris once more, giving yet another nod. "Derek's trying to help him." Again, it wasn't a question, I nodded nonetheless. "Do you know why?" That was a question.

"Allison broke up with him." I offered the answer as if it explained everything, and to Peter and I - it did. Looking at the confused expression on Chris' face, I knew I'd have to dive back into what had happened and a part of me dreaded that. "Allison is Scott's whole world," I sighed, "if he can't be around her, then no one can. He said that once, during the full moon. He almost killed me. You know that the word Werewolf derives from the Old English words Were, which is an adult male, and wulf meaning - well, meaning wolf obviously. The only Old 'high' German respondence was in the surname "Weriuuolf" but the legends never came up in any poetry or ta-"

"Genim," Peter purred, taking the cup out of my trembling grasp, "we know. This isn't about Werewolf lore, however - no, this is about Scott. Please keep focus." I gulped and nodded, ringing my hands in my lap, not missing the grateful glance Chris shot at Peter.

"Right... Umm. Well, Scott gets testy during the full moon and all - he never has really learned to control it, so I didn't pay much mind to it, figured it was just some wolfy thing. You know, the wolves around here get like that a lot - might just be because they're all fluffy little wolf-babies who -" I paused, shrinking down from the half amused, half annoyed glare Peter was shooting in my direction. "Sorry... Anyways, he started to go out a lot more - hunting and such. He never let me cook the meat or anything, he never ate them though. He'd eat maybe one or two when he went all furry and 'grr' and stuff, but never really put a dent in the ever growing pile. Derek gave me a book one night, asked me to check into the Vargulf. There was this really creepy - don't look at me like that, this is important to the story," I huffed at Peter as he cast yet another glare in my direction, "the wolf looked crazy. I mean, like really crazy. It looked like a rabid dog, and it reminded me of Scott on the last full moon. I talked to Derek about it, he said he thought the same. Then the Omega showed up..." my heart rate began to pick back up. Peter's low rumble of a growl invaded my thoughts and a heavy arm was draped over my shoulders, pulling me into the warmth and safety of pack. "Scott was acting all chummy with it, even though it ki... killed all those people. Then my dad showed up..." I hiccuped and rubbed furiously at my eyes once more, the images of the night flashing through my mind. "He was wor.. worried about me and Scott and the others. The O.. it was on him before he even got out of the cruiser. S.. Scott just la.. laughed about it! He LAUGHED! Then he was shifting too... Allison tried to talk him out of it, but he bit her. She was going to die, but Scott was an Alpha all of the sudden. His eyes were all crimson and he just left my dad there, but he cried because he bit his bitch! That's when you lot showed up..." I turned my head and curled into myself, pushing myself away from Peter and keeping my eyes anywhere but on the two men. Peter's snarl, accompanied with the growl coming from Chris, wrapped around me. I choked on a sob and buried my face in my arms, unable to keep my breathing even any longer.

"I'll have the guys handle it," Chris whispered, though I'm sure he didn't expect me to hear it.

"Allison might get trapped in the crossfire," Peter sighed back.

"She made her decision."

The tears came slowly then, realizing that I'd just condemned Scott and Allison to death. A part of me didn't care, but another part - despite being smaller in comparison - told me what I had done was wrong. I wanted to reason with myself, saying that I was saving more lives - but I couldn't, because I was going to be the cause of two deaths. I was the cause of it, even if the reasoning might have been for a good cause. "I'll call Derek and let him know." Peter sighed before excusing himself, leaving Chris and I sitting alone in a deafening silence.

* * *

_**For those of you who care, if you'd like a more visual idea of what Stiles is currently wearing (I was bored xP ) you can look here: polyvorecom/stiles_stilinski_whispers_in_dark/set? id=85633234 - just add a . before the com!**_


	4. Let the Hunt Begin

**_Chapter Four:_**

_"Anyone who has experienced a certain amount of loss in their life has empathy for those who have experienced loss." - Anderson Cooper_

"Stiles!" The shout made me pause momentarily, head turning slowly to the right. Jackson squirmed his way through a swarm of people and stumbled slightly before resuming his hurried pace towards me, muscled arms ensnaring me in a tight embrace, nose pressing firmly into the crook of my neck. Ever since being turned, Jackson had become less of an ass, at least to the pack anyways. He became almost affectionate in school, leaving subtle touches on arms or backs or shoulders whenever he met one of the other Pack members in the halls or out in town. That was just a pack thing though - touching, that is. Derek, Peter, and even quirky Isaac. They said it was for scenting purposes, but there came times when they just did it because it felt natural. With me being the only human member of the pack, I was often the target of their scentings, always claiming that if another pack came through they didn't want me to get stolen away.

"Hey, Jax," I mumbled back, relishing in the warmth of Pack. It was something Derek had said I might not feel, that it's not bad but it was just a wolf thing. I felt it though, I felt it all the time whenever our shoulders would bump or an arm would drop around my shoulders and steer me in the opposite direction of where I needed to go.

Jackson's arms tightened slightly, form trembling until I locked my arms around his waist in return. "Derek says Scott's not pack," he mumbled into the crook of my neck, stepping back until his back hit the course brick of the wall outside of the Bank, dragging me along with him. We stood like that for a few moments, tangled together in a mess of limbs as we held one another. Jackson never liked Scott - in fact, none of the Pack did, not even Peter who had sired him - and he never really tried after Scott abandoned the Pack in favor of Allison. "Says he's a Rogue or something so if he ever comes near any of us again, we have to kill him," he continued. "He says that he and Peter are going to go and talk to him about leaving, because he's no longer welcome."

I carded my fingers through Jackson's honey red spikes, leaning further into the embrace. It had been three days since the talk with Chris and Peter, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up and die for what I had done. Scott didn't deserve death - no one did, though, and Scott being around meant more death for people in the town, which in turn meant danger for the Pack. "Scott's dangerous," I finally whispered, pressing my face firmly against Jackson's shoulder, clutching the green, cotton fabric of his shirt. I inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of his aftershave - an earthy fragrance laced with the natural fresh rain that I had come to accept as being his natural scent - and the lemon-downy that enveloped me from his shirt, and the clean leather wafting off of the leather jacket molding his chest and arms. I smiled softly at the thought of the leather jacket. It was a Pack thing, all of us having the leather jackets, different styles but all black and all leather. I reacher up, toying with the cloth onyx hood connected to the inside of the leather. Like Jackson's, mine had a hood as well, though mine was grey. "Derek and Peter will do what's best for the Pack, and Scott being around is not what's best." I pulled away from Jackson in favor of stuffing my hands into the pockets of the ripped jeans that had once been Derek's.

"Where are you going?" Jackson inquired, allowing the subject to drop. His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, curiosity evident on his face. I allowed myself another small smile, knowing full well that there would be nothing for me to do to get rid of the Wolf.

"The store. I was planning on making Chris dinner tonight. Peter's coming too, I think. That means the pack should be as well." It was father's day and Chris knew it was going to be a hard day, heck even Peter seemed a bit more touchy today whenever I was around. Chris suggested I just stay in the house and relax, but I needed something to do, and making the two dinner was the best solution. The two whom had become surrogate fathers for me over the past few days, the two whom lost everything because of who they were. Jackson's head bobbed slowly in understanding, an arm circling my shoulders as he steered us in the direction of his Porsche.

"I'll help," he chirped, "Isaac would like to as well, I'm sure." Before I could say anything, though I had no objections really, Jackson was on his phone, talking briefly with the other teen. And that was how I found myself in Walmart with two werewolves eager to help.

* * *

"Isaac, no!" I laughed, swatting at the curly-haired boy's shoulder. He, in turn, just grinned his toothy grin as he hugged me tight. Jackson's grin nearly rivaled the other's as he dropped a few items into the cart. We'd already been in the store an hour longer than I'd wanted, though I couldn't really complain. "You two cannot tag team me!" I scolded lightly, trying to keep another spill of laughter in. The two had the decency to pretend to be ashamed of themselves, but the small twitches on their jaws was enough to know that they knew I'd been joking.

Cans lined the many shelves carelessly, labels turned this way and that with the cans themselves turned over on their sides or upside down. A child squalled two aisles over, his mother already having given up on silencing him. An elderly couple bickered loudly a few paces ahead while a young pair conversed lazily next to the soups. Everything was as it should be, everything was normal and oddly cheerful, but life is never easy when you live in a world of Supernatural. It was the simple flash of red that made me freeze, the can of pineapples clattering to the laminated flooring. Jackson and Isaac had noticed minutes before I had, their own eyes flashing brightly against the sea of dull colors surrounding the 'normal' world. I heard the rumble of words exchanged over Jackson's cell phone before a hand landed on my shoulder, steering me away from the barefooted woman who was stalking towards us. The cart remained forgotten in the middle of the lane, the can of pineapples cracking and splitting open as the woman sauntered over it as if it were nothing. Then I was being shoved, urged in the direction of the door by the clawed hands of Isaac who looked ready to shift right in the middle of the store.

"Get him out of here, Isaac," Jackson's snarl piped up from somewhere to my left. For a moment I wanted to protest. I wanted to throw a tantrum about not needing protecting, but it was pointless. The betas were under orders from Derek who would have all of our heads if we went against him. Peter, despite only being a Second, would kill them without hesitation if any harm came to his Human. Chris would help in the maiming if I was harmed now of all times. "Now!" the snarl was louder yet no one but the three wolves and I seemed to hear it.

The alpha's sinister grin was enough for me to turn, only to run into the well defined chest of another. Clawed fingers gripped me firmly by the arms and began dragging me out, Isaac stumbling after me as Jackson followed, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on the Alphess. "Now, now, dears," she cooed as the cool night air slammed into us. None of them seemed affected by the sudden change of temperature, but I could feel it all too well. Summer nights were often cold and chilling in Beacon Hills, and without the warmth of Jackson or Isaac, I could feel just how cold it was. "We just want to chat," she purred once again, nails sharpening to glistening claws and face contorting to that of her wolf-counterpart.

Everything happened in slow motion. Jackson charged the woman, flying into her with such a force that no human would have been able to survive it. Isaac was suddenly tackling the man who had hold of me, the Alpha's claws ripping into my flesh as he flew away from me. I could only watch as my wolves fought the others. Vicious yowls and snarls filled the night , my mind screaming for me to move yet I could do nothing but stare. I knew the moment the Alphess had appeared that even together, Isaac and Jackson stood no chance. She was an Alpha, Isaac and Jackson were both newly turned Betas. The moment I had been grabbed, I knew we were screwed. Jackson fell to the muddy earth in a heap, blood seeping from a multitude of wounds. Isaac soon fell beside of him, curls hiding his face from view. The only signs of their life were the labored rises and falls of their chests as they struggled to breath.

They came at me then, crimson eyes glaring as clawed hands found the black fabric of my shirt and hauling me into the darkness, my screams and shouts muffled by a thin hand. "Silence, human," the female sneered, lifting my effortlessly and tossing me uncaring into the back of a windowless van. We all heard it then, the sudden howl booming from the direction we'd just left. It was the howl I'd only heard once before - the howl signalling the start of a hunt. The howl of an Alpha leading his pack out for blood. A chorus of howls bounced up together then, swearing their vengeance in a song of terrifying beauty - I could only hope they'd find me before it was too late. Darkness overtook me then.


End file.
